


Gimme a Grip

by kelly_goosecock



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Age Difference, Fight Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Rough Sex, it's just a fantasy though, kanji is a mess, why is dojima bisexual? because fuck u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 00:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21226553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_goosecock/pseuds/kelly_goosecock
Summary: Kanji has an unhealthy crush. It doesn't mix well with his tendency to deal with problems in equally unhealthy ways.





	Gimme a Grip

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really have anything to say for myself. weird ships are fun  
Edit there was a really obvious typo in this that took me weeks to notice i want 2 die 
> 
> title is from zoloft by ween

As if it didn’t already feel so wrong.

As if he didn’t already have enough problems.

Kanji had spun enough lies to knit himself a comfy, yet false sense of security, but as time passed, the spools of doubt and self-hatred spinning inside him proved inexhaustible. The facade that once towered over those grating voices -

_ why don’t you go home and play with your little dolls, you fuckin’ faggot _

_ tatsumi-kun? he’s _ ** _so_ ** _ not cute. i need a _ ** _real_ ** _ man, you feel me? _

_ ooh, and just what is widdle miss tatsumi knitting today? _

\- was now a hopeless nest, wrapping and knotting around itself endlessly, entangling Kanji until he was mentally immobile. Sure, his time with Yu and the others was helping to sort out that autocannibalistic web of rationalizations into something he might eventually have the balls to confront and fix for good, but…

...but then there was _ this. _

As if he didn’t already feel like a stupid piece of shit.

………

A not-so-distant siren drifted through the crisp Inaba air and into the alley. Some street punk's head sagged away from Kanji's grip on his collar.

“Out cold just like that, huh? You guys really didn't take much punishment.”

“P-please! That kid's a liar! We weren't doin' nothin’, honest!”

A second hoodlum slumped against the opposite wall, nose crooked and leaking red. 

“Whaddaya think I'm gonna do? Kill ya? You're dumber than you look, and with _ that _haircut, that's saying something.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You fuckin’ creep… I'm outie, man. Have fun explainin’ this to the cops!”

The end of the sentence trailed off, merging with the sound of sneakers hurriedly scuffing against cement as the unlucky thug dashed out of the alley towards who knows where. Kanji laid the unconscious kid carefully on the ground. A knockout means a concussion, and he wasn't trying to-

No, that didn't look quite right. It's gotta seem like he went down hard or else the plan might not work. Kanji angled the other boy's arms and head into an uncomfortably crumpled pose. _ There ya go. Might wake up sore in the morning, but he'll wake up. _

The plan. The fucking plan. It reminded him of how this all started.

………

Yeah, Kanji had seen that detective around before. How could he not? Even if he didn't spend as much time as he did in the holding cell down at the police station, he would have at least known who Ryotaro Dojima was. No one with that much authority flew under the radar in a small town like Inaba. Kanji had _ seen _ him, but it seemed like, until now, he'd never _ noticed _ him. _ The hell'zat mean? ‘Course I noticed him. He's Dojima-san. The big cheese. Narukami's dad. Well, not really, but basically. _

If there was anything he was good at, it was kidding himself. Sure, he noticed the man's _ presence _ , but to Kanji, all Dojima _used _ to be was just another authority figure to avoid eye contact with. That was what real tough guys did. _ Shows you ain't bitchmade if you don't answer to anyone but your own damn self. _He could deflect all he wanted, but it didn't stop the growing throb in his temple and the foreign nausea in his heart. 

The simple fact was, Kanji Tatsumi was head over heels in one-sided love with his new best friend's dad. 

_ Uncle. Whatever. Shut up. _

He remembered only a small portion of that night vividly. Yu didn't seem to just want him around to make their group look tougher, he actually wanted to be friends. Like, real friends. _ This guy still wants to talk to me even after everything he saw…? Okay. Fine, I guess. _

“Your house? Are your folks gonna be okay with that?”

“I'm staying with my uncle, and yeah, he won't mind. If he's even home, that is.”

And so, they sat and talked in Yu's room. Inane bullshit, mostly, but Kanji liked that much better than forced small talk or anything too serious. As the minutes turned to hours, he found himself relaxing more than he had in what felt like forever. Being able to just shoot the shit with another guy wasn't a luxury he normally had, and, as it turns out, it was the perfect remedy for many of his insecurities.

For about five fuckin’ seconds.

The clock on his phone read 5:39.

“Shit. Sorry, I gotta go home and get dinner start- Uh, get started _ eating _ it, I mean.”

Kanji's memory got vastly more detailed right around the time he hit the tenth step. The angle wasn't particularly accommodating, but he could nonetheless see the living room clearly: the cute little girl in pink whose eyes were glued to the television, the table with the half-full coffee mug (no coaster, which stuck out for some reason), and…

No way. No _ god _damned way. 

Kanji felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?”

He didn't even realize that he had stopped. All of his brain power had been diverted to processing what he saw before him. 

A good portion of his body was covered by the newspaper he was leafing through, but it was unmistakable: that was Ryotaro freaking Dojima. Kanji's brain unconsciously scanned the detective from top to bottom, memorizing every little detail. It was the first time he'd seen the guy all casual - a sight that would be unremarkable to anyone else, but seemed to dissolve the structural supports that kept Kanji's mental defenses standing. At first, Kanji’s immobility was merely a symptom of surprise, but something else was sneaking down his spinal cord, freezing his legs. The coldness coalesced into a single thought so sickeningly honest that he almost said it out loud: _ Oh god, he’s hot. _ Why him? Why now? Was it just as simple as ‘right place, right time, human attraction is weird, now go home?’

Subtle wrinkles textured the darkness under Dojima's eyes - eyes which seemed to stare through the paper, forever tired. The scruff on his chin not only gave away his negligence, but detailed all the little idiosyncrasies of his facial hair pattern. _ He's kinda patchy on the cheeks, if you really wanna know. _Between his stern lips hung a filtered cigarette, the earthy, ashy smell of which wafted up into Kanji's nostrils. Dojima had undone his top button and left his tie to dangle untied across his body like a Christian priest's stole. A few sparse hairs peeked up through the opening in his shirt. 

“Dude. Kanji.”

Kanji looked back in silent surprise. He wasn't focused enough to apologize, instead continuing down the stairs, eyes affixed to the sofa perhaps out of caution. Perhaps. 

“Hey, Yu. I didn't know you had a friend o-”

Dojima peeked over his paper. 

“Tatsumi-kun?”

For an instant, legitimate concern showed itself on Dojima's face, turning the stony glare Kanji was used to into something more human, something beautifully fragile. 

“Uh- Hey, sir. Hello, I mean. Dojima-san.”

“_ Sir _?”

Clueless, Dojima glanced at his nephew. Things were already awkward enough, it seemed. 

The moment of silence was enough of an excuse for Kanji to rush a goodbye and dart through the door.

What the hell was with him, freezing up like that? What was with _ Dojima? _ Questions, questions, questions. His jacket fluttered as he jogged back home, as if running would somehow distance himself from his inner conflict. 

………

He tried to act normal, he really did, but Kanji had lost sight of what was really 'normal' a long time ago. A day passed, and then another. He went to school. He cooked for his mother. He sat in the park. Yu hadn't spoken to him. Was Yu busy, or…? He hadn't seen Dojima, either. 

His thoughts were stilted, his every action based on a crooked, false interpretation of the truth. More than ever, he was noticing an insatiable ache from _ down there. Christ. _ Kanji had had crushes, sure, and he knew what to do with himself when he needed to. It felt pretty good, yeah, but it was just such a pussy thing to do, right? Surely a _ real _ man wouldn't need to do that. A real man could go out on the town and hook themselves any chick ( _ or dude, or dude, ordudeordudedudedudedude, _ his mind taunted) he wanted, and then he wouldn't _ need _ to do _ that _…

But Kanji did need to. And he didn't want just any chick (_ dude!!!!) _ \- it wasn't a mystery or some kind of rom-com misunderstanding… No. He knew who he wanted, as much as it frightened him to admit it. And how stupid did he feel swooning over _ some guy _ ? That’s all Dojima really was to him, just _ some guy, some guy _he knew next to nothing about. Tch. Like it mattered if he knew anything about Dojima’s personality. It couldn’t change what he had in mind for the night. 

The light in his mother's room flickered off. He turned his off, too. Just in case. It was time to let go. He would let his dick do the thinking until the deed was done, and no matter how pathetic it might make him feel, he'd surely be better in the morning. 

………

_ Kanji would have just finished dispatching another bunch of wannabe thugs. The commotion would have surely worried some nearby business owner into calling the cops. Some grunt would shove him into the back of a squad car, arms bound with cold steel. _

_ He'd be sat behind a table at the station, handcuffs still in place. _

_ "You just can't keep your nose out of trouble, can you?" some cop would sneer. "You might have gone a little too far this time. The boss wants to question you. Personally." _

_ Kanji might squirm a little in his chair, trying to push away creeping worries. The boss? _ ** _Had_ ** _ he gone too far? Hey. Quit being a pussy and cowboy up. _

_ The door would swing open, and there he'd be, mug in one hand and cigarette in the other, sleeves rolled up, revealing the loose scruff on his forearms. His eyes would meet Kanji's, cold and determined. _

_ "Mind telling me why I'm wasting my time on you today?" _

_ Kanji wouldn't respond. He'd just glare into the corner of the room. _

_ "Don't play tough, Kanji. I'm not in the mood for games." _

Kanji bit his lip, stifling a groan. He had started pawing at himself through his boxers. 

_ "Get lost." Dojima would say, and his lackey would obey. The chair would squeak as the detective seated himself across from Kanji. "Maybe you have your reasons for what you do. I don't much care. You're taking it too far. Inaba's a peaceful place, and I mean to keep it that way. You know what that means, don't you?" _

_ Kanji wouldn't respond. With a sigh - a deep, gravelly sigh - Dojima would get up, making his way around the table. He'd wrench a callused hand onto Kanji's chin, yanking his head until their eyes met. _

_ "Look at me while I'm talking to you." _

_ "Bite me, pig." _

_ Kanji would see the muscles in his face flex as his jaw clenched in frustration. _

_ "Fine. Have it your way." _

_ The grip would relocate from his chin to his bleach blond hair, tugging his head back uncomfortably. Dull, pinching pain would shoot through his neck, drowning out the throb of his bruises from the fight earlier. _

Kanji hissed. His hand had made its way under his waistband. Each stroke was slow but relentlessly tight. It was better if it hurt a little. 

_ Dojima would draw back only to find his gaze willingly met, and with eyes that radiated an uncharacteristic passion. In his periphery, he would see that the boy had become very obviously erect and was bulging through his thick black jeans. _

_ "Christ. Don't tell me you actually liked that. What is it with kids these days?" _

_ Yet again, Kanji would not speak, but he wouldn't look away this time. _

_ "Don't get used to it. You're going to learn your lesson one way or the other. Seeing as you won't listen to reason…" _

_ With a clatter, he would be on the floor, unable to fight back with his bound arms. In a second he would feel a weight on him, and breath on his neck. _

_ "It didn't have to come to this," Dojima might say, his voice a snarl that would make Kanji's hair stand up. Kanji would want it - he wanted it very desperately - but it wouldn't be as much fun any other way. Wouldn't be as much fun without the scars - the bruises - the seething spite. _

_ He would hear the buzz of his zipper and the ruffle of his pants being forced down over his slim ass. He wouldn't kick or scream, he'd take it like a man. _

Kanji rolled over in his bed, drenching his free hand in saliva. He lifted his hips slightly, positioning three bunched fingers near his entrance. 

_ Dojima would not be gentle. He would thrust into Kanji like he was a sex toy - something to be fucked and discarded without a second thought. A hand would press down on his head, rubbing his face into the cheap, shitty carpet that smelled like chemicals and dust. His ass would clench uncomfortably against the savage intrusion. Eventually, Dojima would- _

_ Ah! _

Kanji's fantasy would have to pick up some other time, as he was currently spilling over into his boxers. He dug his face into his pillow, muffling his grunts into nothingness. 

As he cleaned himself up for bed, Kanji was sure he had vindicated himself. The deed was done. No more need for shame. Nothing could make him have to face himself for now, not even the burning pain yet lingering in his ass. 

………

7:00 AM. 

Kanji awoke with an erection.

_ Shit. _

………

Sure enough, a black and white sedan rumbled to a halt at the end of the alley. A twiggy figure stumbled out of the door. 

“Tatsumi? Kanji Tatsumi? But…”

“But what? You guys should know my M.O. by now.”

“Yeah. You _ do _have a reputation down at the station, heh…”

The officer scratched his head, and hey, Kanji recognized this guy! It was Dojima's right hand man, A- something. Akechi? Nah, that wasn't quite it. Whatever. Still, it didn't make sense…

“You're Dojima-san's partner, right? Hell're you doing running a call like this?”

“Well, we're pretty overloaded right now what with the murders, and sometimes guys like me gotta take care of the little stuff. I don't mind, though. Keeping the peace is my job!”

Kanji raised an eyebrow at what he perceived to be a laughably disingenuous smile. _ Christ. Who's he trying to impress? _

“Well, Tatsumi-kun, it seems like you're going to be willing to cooperate. Am I right?”

Man, this wasn't going like he imagined. “Sure.”

“Who's that?”

“Dunno. Some punk.”

“And what exactly happened here?”

_ You need a fuckin’ play by play? One guy in a heap on the ground, another with a record of beating up gang-banging shitheels standing over him… I thought you were a detective, man. _

“Hey, aren't you gonna take me in for questioning or something?”

“Man, you're eager to get arrested today. Do you like our holding cells that much? _ Heheh _.”

_ This smug goddamn dweeb… it's gonna be a long rest of the day. _

………

No amount of time seemed to have any effect on Kanji's affection for Dojima. Day by day, he tried everything he could think of: ignoring it, trying to reason through it, and even indulging it a few more times. Another whole week passed with almost no change - so when Yu bumped into him outside the sewing room with an offer to hang out again, he took on a cautious sort of optimism. Maybe he could do something. Something? What the fuck did that mean? Was Kanji just gonna march up to his friend's uncle and sort-of rival and ask to have dinner with him sometime? Stupid! 

Yu didn't even want to hang out at home, he wanted a fishing buddy. 

“Oh, well, I can keep you company at least. Not sure I'd catch anything if I tried.”

“Hey, I'm good with that. Thanks a lot, man.”

“No problem…”

………

A bobber sat immobile on the calm surface of the river. 

“So what's up with your, uh, uncle?”

“Oh _ yeah. _I probably should have told you who he was. That's my bad. I didn't mean for things to get all awkward.”

“No worries, man. It's chill. I just, uh…”

He just? He just should have thought of what he was gonna say before he opened his dumb ass mouth. 

“I just think if we're gonna be buds that I should, y'know, straighten things out with him. Have a chat, I guess.”

“What, are we gonna get married now? You need his blessing or something?”

“Oh, _ can _ it with that, asshat. I'm serious.”

“Well, good luck then. He rarely gets home before it gets late, and when he does, he spends as much time as he can with Nana-chan.”

“Right…”

Shit. Kanji couldn't take up the guy's parenting time for his own selfish reasons. Which meant…

“I guess the only place I could see ‘im is at the station, huh?”

“S'pose. ...you're not gonna go down there just to ‘chat’ with my uncle, are you?”

“Nah! Nah. Course not. Just thinkin’ out loud, is all.”

It was true, he wasn't just going to ‘go’ to the police station. If he wanted to see Dojima, he'd have to be _ taken _ there. Maybe, just maybe, his fantasy wasn't too far out of the realm of reason… 

………

Kanji did _ not _ like the Inaba Police Department's holding cells. The shitty polyester-ish mattress pads that might as well have been stuffed with sawdust, the tauntingly plain white walls, and most of all the bars that left you nowhere to hide… it made him feel like a one man freak show. _ Everyone look at Tatsumi! He's a fuck-up! _Naturally, he wasn't exactly excited when Adachi started leading him down a hall he knew rather well. That was, until a door adjacent to their path swung open. 

“Adachi, how'd that- _ You _ again?”

Kanji panicked. “Hi, sir.”

“_ Sir _?” Adachi exclaimed. “What's gotten into you, Tatsumi-kun?”

“Shaddup, Adachi. Why'd you cuff this boy?”

“U-uh, well, he got in a fight, and I figured it was standard procedure-”

“I don’t give a damn about standard procedure. Cut ‘im loose.”

“Sir! Are you-”

“I said cut ‘im loose! I’m gonna have a little talk with him.”

Kanji’s heart rate spiked. 

“A fight, huh…?”

………

Dojima’s skepticism was appropriate - it wasn’t much of a fight. Kanji had prowled every side street and alleyway he knew about when he happened to stumble upon three trashy looking third-years shaking down a _ much _younger kid. 

“Pretty petty, taking someone’s lunch money. You guys’re practically stereotypes.”

“Shit! It’s that lunatic! Fuckin’ scramble!”

The tallest of the three sped out of the alley like he’d seen a ghost. The other two stood their ground as Kanji approached.

“We don’t need that pussy. Wouldn’t do us any good in a rumble anyway. ‘Sides, it’s still two on one. You really wanna press y-”

Like lightning, Kanji’s fist met the kid’s face, and the kid met the wall. A sound like a piece of styrofoam snapping in two filled the air. A quick turn of the head confirmed that the other boy was taking a swing at him and that the boy’s arms weren’t much thicker than a Coke can. Kanji didn’t bother blocking. The blow connected with his cheek, and while it didn’t have enough power behind it to really cause any trauma, he turned his head as if the punch had knocked it that way. Slowly, he turned back with a glare. _ I love doin’ that. That’s some Terminator shit. _One punch to the temple knocked the boy’s lights out. Kanji grabbed his shirt to stop him from falling on his ass. He turned to the child they were trying to mug, who stood frozen in terror.

“How much they take from you?”

“A-a-a-a h-hundred y-y-yen…”

“Jesus _ christ. _”

Kanji tossed the boy a couple coins. 

“Here. Buy yourself some candy or something.”

He ran off.

_ Petty, petty fuckers. Pathetic. _

………

The door clattered shut behind them. Was this Dojima's office? There was a simple wooden table in the center with files and loose papers strewn about seemingly without rhyme or reason. A _ couch _ of all things sat in the far corner, draped with a flimsy looking sheet. Dojima fumbled with his pocket, producing a jingling keyring. Without ceremony, he was uncomfortably close to Kanji, his smoky breath tickling the boy's neck. 

** _clink_ **

He wasn't close anymore. 

“There you go. Have a seat.” The man gestured at the table. Kanji obeyed, his feet involuntarily shuffling in place where he sat. He couldn’t possibly sit still with the idea that, yeah, this still might go somewhat like he wanted it to. Dojima took his place across the table.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?”

Just like he planned, Kanji ignored the question and looked away, but his averted gaze came off less as an act of defiance and more a reflection of the truth that he could hardly contain the strange variety of emotions that were pulling his brain in a multitude of directions. _ This might work. No way, this isn’t gonna work. He’s so hot. God, I hate myself. This is stupid. _

“What, are you nervous? You? My toughest men couldn’t get you to so much as flinch but _ I’m _ making you this squirrely? _ Heh, _maybe I still got it.”

The boy barely breathed. 

“Relax, I’m just messing with you. You’re not really in any trouble.”

Wait, _ what? _Their gazes met. Confusion subtly twisted Kanji’s face.

“But-”

“_ If _ I may correct myself: you _ should _be in trouble. Lots of folks around here’d jump at the chance to toss you in a cell, believe me. I just happen to figure you’re not gonna learn anything that way.”

_ Oh SHIT. _ Kanji clamped his hand on his thigh. He clenched his teeth. He clenched his abs, hell, he clenched _ everything. _

“What I mean to say is, I know you’re not a bad kid, really.”

Kanji stopped clenching.

“The hell you mean?”

A smile, wry and tired, found its way to Dojima’s lips. “C’mon, kid. I’m a _ detective _ . This kinda junk is my _ job. _ I know what folks in town say, God bless em’, but all anyone can prove is that you like kicking the snot out of gangs, not running with them.”

Caution and tentative disappointment drowned out the cacophony in Kanji’s head.

“So?”

“Yeah, I suppose I should tell you why I wanted to talk.”

Dojima sighed, briefly massaging his forehead. When his hand drew back, it revealed a sharp, yet somehow still warm gaze. 

“I don't know if you're trying to prove something, or if you're trying to protect someone, or even if you're just trying to impress some girl. Your little vigilante act has to stop. Sure, you might rough up a little crew of punks and have em’ go crying home to mama one night, but say they gather up some of the _ other _ kids you've whipped and decide they want a little revenge? Someone might get hurt. Hell, _ you _ might get hurt. Best to just leave it to the cops. You getting any of this?”

Kanji sat back in his chair with a sigh. 

“So… so you're not gonna…”

He couldn't ask what he meant to ask. As much as he wanted it, the word he was thinking of didn't make sense anymore. This guy wouldn't do that. Couldn't. How stupid could he have been? All that complex emotional shit was out the window, and now Kanji was just pissed at himself yet again. 

“Nevermind. I get you.”

“You agree, then? No more picking fights?”

_ No more picking fights? _ The question sat in Kanji's mind like a rotting log in a swamp. What more did he have other than that? He had his _ real _ self, sure, but that was a hard fucking no-go. It was too late to find a new schtick. He couldn't just _ not _ have an identity. Kanji's elbows dug into the table. His head dipped down, his hands holding it up from the back. 

"…"

“Kanji? Are you…?”

He was. Tears dripped onto a sheet of notes, blurring the ink. His hands balled into fists and his lips drew back over clenched teeth as he silently wept. _ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _

Fatherly instinct kicked in, and Dojima took his chair around the side of the table next to the boy. He gently guided Kanji's head against his shoulder, cradling the boy in an awkward sideways hug. 

Kanji felt the rise and fall of the man's chest, felt his heartbeat. It grounded him, like clinging to a lantern in the dark. Though it couldn't keep him from staying pissed at himself and the whole stupid situation, the rhythm calmed him down enough to speak. He pulled back, revealing his unflatteringly reddened face. He sniffled.

"No one really talks to me like that. -_ snf _\- 'Cept my mom, I guess, but..."

Dojima raised his eyebrows. Kanji could tell he was struggling to find the words, so he filled in the blank.

"Seems like you care. Not just about the town, I mean. -_ snk- _ Maybe I'm crazy, but it sounds like you care about _ me." _

"Sure I do. It's my job."

Suddenly, Kanji perked up.

"No, it _ ain't _ . Caring ain't your job, and you know it. All you gotta do is catch crooks, and up until a couple a' minutes ago, that's all I was to you. So just what the _ hell-" _

"Kanji. I'm not feeding you a line. I care. Maybe I don't know you_ , _but what kind of person would I be if I ignored those in need just because they're not close to me?"

At that notion, the boy chuckled. 

"Start talking like that around kids my age and you'd probably get called a queer or something."

"That so?"

"Don't I know it."

Kanji reclined again, staring off into space. He could still feel eyes on him, though.

“Do they call _ you _ that?”

"'Course not. Wouldn't dare. They know they'd get what was comin' to em."

"Ah, Kanji…" Dojima scoffed, "No more fights, remember?"

As the words rolled around Kanji's head, they rustled up an idea. A terrible, beautiful idea. It was so stupid, so childish, and so guaranteed to fail that it appealed to Kanji's danger-loving brain like nothing else. The adrenaline of battle flowed through his veins. There was no turning back now. 

"Y'know… not too long ago something happened that forced me to face myself. Come to terms with the shit I do. N' I think I learned it's probably better if I don't deny how I feel about stuff."

Dojima stared steadily at the boy, intent and earnest.

"Yeah? That's good. I think everyone should be as true to themselves as possible."

"That's why I'm gonna be honest about how I feel about you, Dojima-san."

A blink. A split second beat. 

"M-me? This isn't about your arrests, is it? I thought you understood-"

Kanji's hands curled around the ends of his chair's wooden armrests, digging his nails into the old, worn grain. 

"I want… I want you to… kiss me."

There was a smallish gap between Dojima's lips as if he'd forgotten to close them mid-thought. The boy was glaring at him now, fire in his eyes like he'd just mown down fifty men with a machine gun. It took a while, but he managed to find a reasonable answer. 

"Kanji… I can't do that."

"And why the hell not?"

It was obvious to both of them why not. There were so many reasons, and Dojima couldn't help but be quite exasperated. 

"You're _ just a kid! _I'm an old man, and a cop! And what if I'm straight? Maybe I'm just not interested? What then?"

"Then I guess you're gonna see me again tomorrow. It's like you said, there's a lotta people gunning for me. I don't have to walk far to find a fight."

This was it. Kanji's stomach was a rolling boil. It made him feel like shit every time, but goddamn was it exhilarating. He stood, sliding his chair off into the corner of the room. Not to be talked down to, Dojima rose in kind. 

"What the hell happened to you? I thought we were having a real conversation here!"

"We were. Guess we're done."

The guy was right, Kanji couldn't fight anymore. Dojima had successfully plucked whatever tenuous thread that held Kanji's facade up with simple logic and a little bit of genuine compassion. Oh well. If he couldn't swing a kiss, he could swing a few final punches. 

Sparks darted around Dojima's field of view, and everything turned blue-green for a split second. He didn't have time to contemplate why the kid hit him, why things seemed to have gone off the rails in a split second. 

A right hook sent Kanji staggering slightly backwards, arms still raised in anticipation of another blow. Having recovered, he threw a feeble jab.

Dojima caught it, ricocheting the fist off his own wrist before grabbing the boy's arm in a precise, practiced motion. He didn't wait for the second punch, preemptively restraining the other arm too. He pushed, perhaps an attempt to ram Kanji against the wall, but he didn't make it very far before his foot caught on the leg of the table.

With a rumble, they were on the ground. The fall had jolted some kind of momentary truce into their heads as they were forced to reassess the situation. Dojima was now essentially laying atop the boy, pinning his arms against the carpet. In the center of his vision was Kanji's reddened face, and… he'd be goddamned if it didn't look like the kid was _ blushing. _Sure, he was crying earlier and he did just take a punch, but it just didn't look quite…

Oh_ . _

Something hard rubbed against Dojima's thigh, wiggling just a bit.

_ Oh. _

It _ was _pretty hot...

_ This kid's gonna be the goddamn end of me. _

Warm, prickly stubble met Kanji's face. He almost jumped out of his skin - he had long since abandoned any prospect of, well, _ this. _ He did his best to maneuver his juvenile mouth around Dojima's, and given the mood in the room, it didn't matter that his inexperience was making itself so obvious. The man's lips were surprisingly soft, relaxed just enough that it felt like they were melting into Kanji, melting into his head and down through his insides, turning everything into a warm, buzzing puddle. Well, _ one _ thing hadn't been soft since Dojima clocked him in the jaw. _ Hey, it was a solid punch. Don't judge me, asshole. _

After what felt like an eternity and a woefully brief moment at the same time, Dojima pulled back. His eyes seemed sad again; they had never not looked tired. 

"I really gotta… I've got a lot of work to do, Kanji-kun."

"...but you ain't let go a' my arms yet."

A rattle, a creak. The door swung open, and as it did:

"Dojima-san! Someone said they heard commot- Holy smokes! Are you guys fighting?"

"No, Adachi, we're dancing the bolero. _ Yes _ it's a goddamn fight _ , _ the kid _ sucker punched me!" _

"Oh crap! Looks like you need-"

"Stand down. I don't need anything from you I haven't asked for."

He wrestled Kanji into a more upright position, using the opportunity to whisper, "_ C'mon, kid. Fight back. Make it look real." _

"What's gonna happen with Tatsumi?"

Dojima shot Kanji an unsure glance. 

"We'll- ..._ I'll _figure something out."

………

"_ phewwww" _

A plume of thin smoke curled up out of Kanji's mouth and into the air. He watched it float lazily away and disperse. A voice from nearby cut in. 

"You should put that out. Take it from me, you don't want the habit."

"_ You _gave it to me, old man."

"I suppose I did. That's all I'm giving you, though. You'll make yourself sick. And don't call me old man."

"Aight, how about 'Ryotaro'?"

"No, that's what- ...no. 'Dojima-san' is fine."

"You seemed pretty fond of 'sir' earlier."

"Jesus, kid. You never relax, do you?"

Dojima tightened the arm he had slung around Kanji. They first decided to use the sofa weeks ago. It was a fine place to cuddle - the office _ did _have a lock, after all. Kanji nuzzled Dojima's chest.

"Hell, I'm relaxed now."


End file.
